


we are the boys (we've seen 'em all) we've chosen you

by spock



Category: Football RPF, German National Football Team RPF
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Regency, Arranged Marriage, Body Worship, Comeplay, Crack Treated Seriously, Domestic Bliss, Double Penetration, Felching, First Time, Hand Feeding, Handwaving, Honeymoon, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Manhandling, Married Life, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Partial Nudity, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Rimming, Service Kink, Service Top, Size Difference, Snowballing, Strength Kink, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, Under-negotiated Kink, Yuleporn, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:23:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miro feared that Thomas' complete and utter hold over him might become a problem at some point, but not enough that he ever truly spent much time worrying over it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are the boys (we've seen 'em all) we've chosen you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voksen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voksen/gifts).



Miro had only just turned eleven when his parents first informed him to his distantly-impending nuptials. His husband-to-be had just been born, but that had never been the sort of thing to hold back families like theirs.

 _It's for the good of the House_ , his father had told him, eyes glancing at Miro's sullen face from over the top of his book. His mother was only slightly more sympathetic, saying, _If nothing else, I'm sure the two of you will be great friends._

Miro couldn't possibly see how, with over a decade between them. His husband would almost certainly always be a baby; Miro was sure of it.

The arrangement was something that Miro kept in the back of his mind, all through grade school and up into university. He was of the serious sort, devoting himself to his studies and the other duties that came with being someone of his station, so it wasn't hard for him to stay chaste for a husband he had yet to meet and who therefore wasn't even his husband at all. He could only hope that the other man was paying Miro the same courtesy.

His twenty-ninth birthday arrived without much fanfare, both because Miro wasn't terribly excited about how close he was to being thirty — and to be without a husband at such an age! For twenty-nine long years, he had had no release for his urges other than a hand job exchanged here or there, hidden away and never spoken about once they were over. His parents promising him away to someone eleven years his junior never failed to prove itself a sick joke, in multiple ways — nor was he happy that with each year he trended away from eighteen, his husband strode toward it.

They were to be wed, finally, later that year in the fall, not long after his husband's birthday. As the date crept closer, Miro's arguments with his father over the topic increased. They kept on right up until the very moment he and Thomas first met.

From that point onwards, Miro was very much on board with the whole thing.

 

♕

 

For all the years he had previously spent griping, married life came easy to Miro. Suited him, even.

Thomas had wanted to forgo their honeymoon so that they could instead move right into their new home. Miro quickly discovered that he was unable to deny his husband anything, and the topic of their honeymoon followed the same trend. He feared that Thomas' complete and utter hold over him might become a problem at some point, but not enough that he ever truly spent much time worrying over it.

"Opa," Thomas would say, a nickname that never failed to set Miro into just the _right_ sort of mood, and from that point onwards he'd be putty in Thomas' hands, doing whatever his husband had asked of him.

The worst thing about it was that Thomas knew exactly what he was doing, and never failed to use his newfound hold over Miro for the worst sort of things.

 

♕

 

On the sixth morning of their marriage, over breakfast, Thomas came into the dining room well after Miro had already seated himself. The table wasn't spectacularly grand, but it was nevertheless respectable; there were seven other places that Thomas could sit, but of course he dropped himself right into Miro's lap.

"What's for breakfast, Opa?" Thomas asked, pressing a kiss to Miro's cheek. "I'm absolutely ravenous." It wasn't as if Miro couldn't imagine why Thomas was hungry. Despite avoiding a honeymoon-proper, they were still very much in the throes of the stage itself, even without the vacation. They hadn't been getting much sleep, and they were in a constant state of hunger, for one thing or another.

Miro hadn't been able to help himself, not after so many years of not having anything like this. Thomas hadn't been nearly as faithful to their impending vows as Miro had been, though Miro couldn't say that he much minded, not then, when he had enjoyed the benefits of Thomas' more experienced past.

"If you must sit this way, at least make yourself useful," Miro complained. "You are interfering with my breakfast."

"Well, if you insist," Thomas agreed, tearing at a piece of meat with fingers.

Miro sighed. "Thomas, must you really?" Still, he dutifully opened his mouth as Thomas fed him, trapping his husband's fingertips between his lips even after he'd dropped the food onto Miro's tongue.

"Really, Miro," Thomas mirrored Miro's put-upon tone. He leaned in closer and said, "I just want to feed you, Opa. Is it really so bad, me wanting to take care of you?"

Miro let Thomas' fingers slip from his mouth so that he could say, "I do find it rather hilarious that you're acting as if this were for me." Thomas hadn't even had the decency to look ashamed at being caught out, so Miro added, "You are such a good boy though, aren't you? My perfect husband, how ever did I exist without you in my life?"

That did it. Thomas' face heated up nicely and he squirmed rather deliciously in Miro's lap.

 

♕

 

"I want to try something," Thomas said from where he was spread across Miro’s naked body, which never meant anything good for Miro's sanity. Twelve days married and Miro had already played at being Thomas' test subject nearly five times that number.

Miro wasn't what he would consider old, but he certainly wasn't eighteen any more either. "Thomas," he panted. "Give us opas a little bit more time to recover." He'd only just come a few minutes ago. His dick hadn't even begun to soften yet, flushed and sticky, over-sensitive and still twitching slightly in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"I promise you don't have to do anything." That made Miro reconsider. He did so love Thomas' _somethings_ when they didn't require any effort on his part. He nodded his agreement and Thomas smiled brightly, dipping down kissing Miro within an inch of his life before pulling away for good.

Thomas situated himself between Miro's legs, hoisting Miro's knees so that they were hooked over his shoulders. He didn't make any ceremony of diving face first into Miro's ass, licking against the rim.

"Holy _God_ ," Miro cursed. He reached town and grabbed at Thomas' head, unsure if he wanted to pull his husband closer or push him away. After a moment, Thomas switched away from licking and had began sucking instead, inciting a long, drawn out _fuck_ from Miro.

Almost as soon as he started, Thomas stopped, shrugging off Miro's legs from his shoulders so that he could climb back up the length of Miro's body, until they were face to face again. His mouth and the lower half of his face were slick with what Miro belatedly realized could only be Thomas' come.

"Oh, Thomas," Miro whispered. He slid his hands down from Thomas' hair and cupped Thomas' cheeks, his fingers resting at the nape of Thomas' neck. "Look at you. You really do try so hard to be a good boy, don't you?"

A shudder racked Thomas' body. He leaned down slowly, hesitantly, until his lips were again pressed against Miro's. Miro had kissed him back instantly, confused as to why Thomas was suddenly so shy. The answer had become apparent when Miro licked past Thomas' lips and he found that Thomas had a mouthful of himself, so Miro licked that up too.

 

♕

 

Neither of them had much need for a full staff, so their estate was largely empty. While there were a few detriments to this arrangement, like the lack of personnel to heat their baths at a moment's notice for an evening's debauchery, the unexpected benefits more than made up for them. They could do what they liked, wrapped up in their bubble-of-two as they were, completely enamored.

When they finally managed to venture outside their home, they encountered one of their few permanent grounds staff, just past the garden. He was shirtless, rolling around in the grass with a pair of dogs that couldn't seem to get enough of him. It was about as innocent as could be, yet Miro felt inexplicably hot under his ascot.

Their man caught sight of them and shook the dogs off so that he could come barreling their way, his chest heaving and covered in a light sheen of sweat. He was, to say the least, _distracting_.

"Herzog Klose! Herr Müller! How wonderful to finally meet you," he said, bowing a slight bit before extending his hand. He shook Thomas' first, and then Miro's. "They told me when I was hired that you two were quiet the outdoorsmen, but at this rate I wasn't sure you'd ever leave the great house!" He laughed again, a loud, boisterous thing that seemed to reverberate around them.

"I am so very happy to have such a wonderful husband," Thomas agreed. Miro smiled down at him rather sappily, though he supposed a bit of emotion was allowed, being that they were still very much newly wed. "And please, do call us by our given names."

The man's smile seemed to grow bigger, if it was at all possible. "Well I'm Lukas Podolski; you're free to call me whatever you like."

"I promise that we will certainly to that." Thomas had the amazing ability to make everything sound like the absolute _worst_ kind of promise. Miro mussed Thomas' hair up a bit, whispering in Thomas' ear that he'd better stop before Miro was forced to punish him. "Right," Thomas said, "Well, we were hoping to take a pair of the horses out for a bit. See if the outdoors still holds an appeal."

Lukas told them that they'd be able to ride in about an hour's time, and then left to make it happen. Thomas and he watched the groom take off towards the stables, dogs trailing after him.

"Opa," Thomas said, and Miro resigned himself to going along with whatever it was Thomas was about to come up with. "I want to try something."

 

♕

 

They started inviting Lukas round for breakfast. Miro expected him to protest for the sake of propriety, at least the first few times they extended an invitation, but Lukas never did, which left Miro feeling charmed. There was something very liberating about the way Lukas lived, accepting everything with a smile and sunny attitude. Miro knew himself to be rather dour and reserved at times, and Thomas had more than a little bit of a temper, bless him. It was nice to have someone around who offset their particular moodiness.

The fact that Lukas seemed to take everything in stride proved to be particularly necessary when Thomas finally joined them one morning, doing as he always seemed wont to do and settling himself right atop his husband's lap, kissing him rather shamelessly for a moment before turning to say the morning's greetings to Lukas.

"What time are you out of bed, Poldi?" he asked, and Lukas smiled at the nickname. Thomas reached out and snagged a couple raspberries from the plate he shared with Miro, popping the first into his own mouth and its twin into Miro's. "Please don't tell me this is some Polish thing. I was hoping that you'd help me get Miro to stay in bed longer so that breakfast could be held at a more reasonable hour."

"I'm sure you'd be able to give him a reason to stay in bed if you really wanted to," Lukas said to Thomas. He forked some eggs into his mouth and swallowed before turning to Miro.

"If you don't mind me asking," Lukas said in Polish, causing Thomas' breath to catch even as his eyes narrowed and a frown crossed his face. "How old is Thomas, exactly."

"Eighteen," Miro answered in their shared native language, enjoying how worked up Thomas appeared to be getting. He switched back to German, saying, "Lukas, you wouldn't happen to have any brothers, would you?"

"No. Do you?"

"It just so happens that I do not." Miro ran his fingers over the frown lines that settled deep across Thomas' face. He tried to force Thomas to smile, but his husband refused. Miro found himself wanting to smack Thomas lightly about his face, but he figured that would be too much in polite company, even though Lukas had taken everything else in stride that morning. "Do be a good boy and smile for me, Thomas; you know I hate to see you upset."

That did it; a smile twitched its way onto Thomas' lips, the furrows between his eyes smoothing out. As a reward, Miro dipped down and kissed the side of his mouth. Turning back to Lukas, Miro said, "I wonder if it's possible to think of him as my husband and brother both? When it's just the two of us, I find it no hardship to treat him as partner and lover, but in your presence, Lukas, I cannot fight the urge to rile him up a bit, as older brothers do."

"No!" Thomas groaned, rather dramatically. "Aren't you supposed to dote on me? Surely the middle son should by rights have the roughest life, being beset upon from both directions?" He asked, shooting Lukas a rather mutinous look when Lukas laughed at Thomas' attempts to turn the situation.

"Thomas, really," Lukas sipped at his glass of water, "there's nothing better than being in the middle."

 

♕

 

Thomas took Lukas' _laissez-faire_ attitude to his antics as a challenge. Miro found himself caught up in their little game of one-upmanship, though he could not say that he minded. They'd finally reached the point where they could stand to be away from each other for more than a moment, some of the constant need for intimacy having waned enough that they could actually achieve productivity.

Miro used his newfound freedom to inspect the grounds of their new home, oftentimes with Lukas accompanying him, acting as a guide. It became apparent rather quickly that Lukas felt more comfortable outside of his shirt than within its confines. Shirtless, he was always clad in a pair of fitted trousers that somehow managed to leave almost as little to the imagination that his lack of shirt did. Miro had become quite practiced at ignoring Lukas' near nakedness, for the most part, except for one particular portion of the day: the mornings, when Lukas' nipples would pebble up _obscenely_ in the early winter chill.

"You're going to come down ill if you do not take more care," Miro warned. "Who'll take care of you if you fall ill?" Lukas gave him a look, eyebrows resting high on his face. _In for a penny_ , Miro had thought to himself before he tacked on, in his best imitation of his husband, "Who will take care of us? Really, Poldi, _must_ you be so selfish?"

Thomas called out right then, jogging down the hall to catch up to them. "Of course, we shall be the ones to take care of him, Opa." He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Miro's lips, whispering, "I heard that, by the way."

"Besides," Thomas continued. "By rights, it would fall to us to look after him. We're practically brothers, now." He walked up to Lukas and danced his fingers along the sensitive skin of his lower abdominals. Lukas hunched down, a protective reflex, and there was a moment where Miro was absolutely sure that the two of them were readying to kiss: Thomas' head angled up as he laughed delightedly at Lukas' flinching reaction, Lukas' head dipped down as it was, hovering a hair's width from Thomas' mouth.

But in a flash so brief he might have only imagined it, the moment passed, Lukas having jumped away from Thomas' reach.

"Miro," Thomas said, laying a hand on Lukas' shoulder this time. "Oh, he's practically burning up! Come feel." To Lukas he said, "Are you certain you have not taken ill already, Poldi?"

"I run hot," Lukas' explained as he dutifully stood still while the two of them poked, prodded, and stroke the skin along his back, shoulders, and arms. "And I am sorry to disappoint," Lukas added, sounding a bit breathless as Thomas stroked a hand down the length of his spine. "But I could never think of the pair of you as my brothers."

Miro and Thomas shared a rather significant look at that.

 

♕

 

Blood streaming down the side of his face, Thomas stomped into the sitting room where Miro had been speaking to Lukas, nearly sending Miro into a bout of apoplexy.

"Tommy!" Miro said, aghast. He opened his arms and Thomas fell head-first into them, miserably muttering out a sad, watery, " _Opa_."

Lukas stood, hovering in the space between the two couches, obviously equally concerned. "Lukas, could you get us a rag or something? And the nursing supplies; it seems we may need them." Lukas left to do just that, all but running out of the room.

Miro pulled Thomas' face out from where his husband had burrowed it into his neck, staining Miro's own skin and clothes with his still-leaking head wound. "Thomas, what happened? What mischance caused this injury?"

Lukas returned to the room, balancing a bowl of water with a rag half-hanging out of it in one hand, and in the other he held a needle and thread and what other nursing supplies he could find.

Miro didn't protest when Lukas sat down rather close to them on the chaise and started blotting at Thomas' head with the soaked cloth. Predictably, Thomas hissed and tried to shy away, so Miro grabbed hold of his face and held it still, firmly, so that Lukas' could clean him up and they would be able to assess whatever damage lie hidden beneath the blood.

"I was having a roll with the hounds," Thomas admitted, when the pain had subsided enough for him to speak. "I grew a bit fierce with them, and they got a bit _more_ fierce with me." He looked at Lukas from beneath his hooded eyes. "You really do need to trim those bastards' nails; they're like knives!"

"Good _God_ , Thomas!" Lukas exclaimed. Miro caught eyes with Lukas and they shared a look of exasperation, undoubtedly over Thomas’ antics, but at themselves for getting worked up over such a small thing, as well.

He dropped the rag and boxed Thomas upside the head before leaning in and burying his face in Thomas' neck. "I was so worried, you horrible little shit. I thought some miscreant had gotten onto the grounds and attacked you or something."

Lukas’ lips were pressed right up against Thomas' skin as he spoke; Miro had been able to feel as the other man’s words caused Thomas to shiver where he was seated in Miro's lap. He watched as Thomas' eyes dilated and his breath came out in shuddering little pants.

“Miro,” Thomas started to say, before he paused to press his neck harder against Lukas’ mouth. He continued on, in his most pitiful tone, “You’ll both care for me tonight, won’t you? Head wounds can be so difficult to keep an eye on.” He punctuated his words by canting his hips forward, until the half-hard line of his erection had been pressed right against Miro’s stomach, obvious and obsene against even through the fabric of his trousers.

 

♕

 

Whereas he and Thomas were rather compact, Lukas was broad, quite muscular from his work around the estate. It was easy for him to heft Thomas into the air as he carried him into the bedroom, Miro following quickly behind.

"I warn you now, he's terribly greedy," Miro said as he slipped his fingers into the back of Lukas' pants. "He never asks for anything, and he's positively vicious. Even worse, he makes the most _horrible_ jokes."

"I can handle that," Lukas' promised as he dumped Thomas onto the bed. "What about you? What are your vices then?"

Thomas pulled them both down onto the bed and wrapped his arms and legs around Miro's body as if he'd been a monster from the darkest depths of the sea. "Miro is completely perfect," Thomas argued. "His only lack is that he had never had amorous congress with anyone before me. But you'll help me fix that, won't you, Poldi?"

Lukas promised that he would, and he didn't fail to deliver.

Miro found himself pressed between both of their chests, Lukas at his front while Thomas was settled close against his back, all of them kneeling in the middle of Thomas and Miro's grand bed. Thomas and Lukas each had three fingers spread inside of Miro's body as they worked to get him pliant enough for their cocks. Miro hadn't even realized that such a thing was possible — that they wanted to do such a thing with _him_ — but now that he was more than halfway there, Miro was not sure that he was going to survive the remaining wait, he wanted it so badly.

Lukas had Miro wrap his arms and legs around Lukas' body so that the man could hold him up and impale Miro onto his cock, allowing Miro's weight to draw him down. Thomas did not give him much time to adjust to the foreign size and girth of Lukas' dick before he was sliding his own up alongside it, both of them contained in the tight clench of Miro's body.

Miro panted, "You're both s—such good boys," feeling as if each word was being forced out of him with each of their thrusts. He reached and arm behind himself and tangled his hand in Thomas' hair. "It feels so good, Tommy. You're both doing so good. You've never had this done to you before, have you?" He locked eyes with Lukas, who'd been looking at Miro as if he'd hung the moon.

"Lukas, what do you think?" Lukas' face was a mottled red, and his mouth was dropped open as he gasped frantically; his hips were thrusting up into Miro's body with abandon. "If Thomas is a good boy, should we fuck him like this next?"

 

♕

 

Once they'd invited Lukas into their bed, he never actually left it. One night turned into two, then four, then before Miro'd really noticed, Lukas had been there every night, warming their bed with his inexplicable body heat. With Lukas in bed with them, they had little use for the additional duvet they'd taken to using, Lukas being a more than suitable replacement. Lukas was also much more willing to sleep while cuddled up close, something that Thomas was horrible at, always having been one to twist and turn in his sleep.

They developed a nice routine. In the mornings, Lukas would wake up early to tend to his duties, Miro and Thomas pitifully asking him to stay before finally giving up and fighting over the warm space that he'd left behind. A while later, Miro would leave the warmth of their bed for breakfast, Lukas usually joining him at the table not much later. About halfway through the meal, Thomas would make an appearance, sitting in one of their laps and stealing food off their plate.

It was all terribly domestic. Miro loved every second of it.

 

♕

 

The spring brought even more work to be done, and though Lukas argued that he could handle it all quite well on his own, Miro felt the need to put his foot down. They hired a gardener — part-time, as a compromise.

The gardener, when he arrived, proved to be a few inches taller than all of them. He was thick, bigger even than Lukas, with long limbs and strong hands that gripped all their of theirs so tightly as he shook them and introduced himself as Manuel with a lovely, self-conscious smile.

Miro knew enough to recognize the signs even as early as that. He wasn't the least bit shocked when Thomas leaned into Miro's side — pulling Lukas along with him — and said, under his breath, "Opa, I want to try something."

**Author's Note:**

> so this is a thing. my knowledge for regency and its tropes is pretty dismal — thus the vague hand waving — but arranged marriages, schmoopy feelings-filled threesomes, undernegotated kinks, and all those other wonderful things??? that is my area, so i couldn't resist. i really hope you like it!
> 
> a huge thank you to the nth degree to elfwreck, who turned this from _all the handwaving_ into something respectable and actually regency appropriate — except for dicks. i drew the line at dicks; no whore pipes, virile members, tickle tails, or [gaying instruments](http://www.fromoldbooks.org/Grose-VulgarTongue/g/gaying-instrument.html). any and all remaining inaccuracies are my own fault, possibly and most likely due to me being stubborn.


End file.
